


Dreaming

by Pixiecodesnowbaz



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 16:11:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9828359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixiecodesnowbaz/pseuds/Pixiecodesnowbaz
Summary: This dangerous fluff occurs before Chapter 61, the night that Simon was in Baz's room at his house. Simon says he slept the best he had for a long time, but this is an alternative scene for that night.Be parapared for an attack, nightmares, comfort, and cold, etc.





	1. (Baz-Simon perspective)

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter has Baz's perspective and then Simon's, the next chapter is the same scene with switched perspectives. Thanks!!

BAZ

I stare blankly at the ceiling, stealing glances at Snow. Simon Snow. In my house. In my room. On my couch.  
He just showed up at the door covered in muck. He's all clean now, sprawled on my couch for the night. I realize I have lapsed into just staring at Snow, not bothering to look away because I can hear his steady breathing. Thoughts rush through my head, being pushed out immediately because I cannot bear to think them. My eyes flit over his face, familiar from all the times I've stared at it, when I knew he couldn't see me. It's all I can do, I've got no chance, he hates me, and I can't let go.  
“Baz?” I hear him say my name, and I jump; I didn't know he was awake! Fuck, I've been staring at him this whole time!  
“Yes, Snow?” Is all I say, thanking the calmness in my voice.  
“I'm cold,” comes his soft reply. Simon Snow, who always sleeps with the windows open, to make the room colder?  
“I know you are, your heart’s as cold as your name.“ I can hear his sigh.  
“You know what I mean, Baz.” The sound of my name on his lips tugs my heart.  
“Come here, Snow. “ Then I instantly curse myself. I'm going to drive myself crazy overnight. Snow, so close, close enough to touch, but untouchable. He'll notice I'm staring, he'll know there is something more behind my eyes, something other than hate, and he'll push me away. Because there's no chance it could work out.  
Snow climbs off my couch and slips onto the bed next to me. His body is warm and he curls up so close I can feel it emanating from his body, even though we aren’t touching. Snow falls asleep almost immediately. I don't. I stay up, tensed, watching Snow for hours. Finally I’m able to fall into fitful sleep. It’s no wonder I have nightmares.  
Faces and blood splash across my vision. Snow is everywhere. Covered in blood, gazing into my eyes, standing in the doorway. In the kitchen with a plate of scones. At Watford, holding hands with Wellbelove. I'm frantic. Snow is running and I'm giving chase, fangs out. He's running, running, but he's tired and I'm running too. I can't stand this. I feel like I'm fifteen again, kiss him, kill him? It's all I can think. Kill, kiss, both? I can't stand not doing either. Kiss him, he'll kill me. Kill him, and I will never let myself live it down, I'll kill myself after. Kiss him and at least he lives. How will he think of me? He running, and my fangs are out, strides closing the distance. I hate what he does to me. I hate that he makes me weak. I hate it. Hate, fangs, running. I finally catch up, I hear him yelling my name. My eyes snap open, but I'm still partially in the dream. I see hands, his hands. His face. My fangs are bared as I lash out, attacking every part of him I see. Surprised, he is doing poorly at fighting back. Finally, he is too weak to fight back at all. My fangs are poised over his exposed neck, connecting with his throat…

 

Simon  
Baz hovers over my neck for the longest time before moving. His fangs are touching my neck, but not pressing. He is dragging it out, rubbing my defeat my face. Because he's wanted this for a long time I bet. Plotting my downfall. And I can't do anything about it now. I close my eyes, waiting. He moves- away?  
He releases me and I fall limp into his lap. I sit silently for a minute, shaken and tired. I am bracing for another attack. It doesn't come.  
I turn my face up to Baz, and see… tears. His eyes are wide and frightened, tears spilling out and streaking down his soft cheeks, dripping off his jaw.  
“I almost killed you…” he whispers. I don't quite understand why he’s so distraught, i mean, he is trying to do me in. I guess it's because he's not a murderer.  
He's just a boy.  
I sit up and wrap my arms around his shoulders and squeeze gently. I start stroking his arm reassuringly. He turns and buries his head in my chest.  
“It’s okay, Baz. It’s okay.”


	2. (Simon-Baz perspective)

Simon

I lay down on Baz’s couch, comfortable for the first time since my first day back at Watford. I close my eyes and try to sleep.  
It doesn't work. It’s cold. I can’t fall asleep. And I really don’t want to ask, but Baz’s bed looks warm… I really don’t want to ask Baz. I tug the blankets closer to me and try to ignore the cold.  
“Baz.” I finally call out. I’m pretty sure he’s awake, even if I can’t see him.  
“Yes, Snow?” his voice floats calmly out of the darkness.  
“I’m cold.” That’s all I say. I’m not sure what I expect him to do about it. Ignore me, bring me more blankets, send me back to my own room? I don’t know.  
“I know you are, your heart’s as cold as your name.” he says. I sigh.  
“You know what I mean, Baz.” Why is he always like this? The he says something unexpected.  
“Come here, Snow.” Like, to his bed? Awestruck at this new turn, but too cold to care that he is probably plotting something (even though I was the one that brought it up), I get up and slip into his bed. I feel Baz’s coolness on my back even though we are not touching. But I am warm. And comfortable. I feel his eyes prickling the back of my neck as I fall asleep immediately.  
I am woken by Baz’s screams. It must be hours later, judging by how rested I feel. Baz’s eyes are screwed shut, fangs in his mouth bared at the ceiling, opened by intermittent screams. I don’t even stop to really recognize that Baz is actually a vampire, it only registers dimly. Baz is all that matters right now.  
He must be having a nightmare, we both do. Even though we’re supposed to be enemies, I feel like I know him better than anyone. Baz’s fingers are curling, tearing at the air. His head is whipping from side to side. I’ve got to wake him up. I can’t stand seeing him like this, with such pain clearly etched on his face. Also, I can’t sleep with his thrashing around like this. But mostly, I’m worried about Baz.  
I get up on my knees right next to him, and start shaking his shoulders, yelling his name. His eyes jerk open, and I can tell he is still in a dream haze as he tackles me, hissing. He jumps on me, slamming me back against the bed, pinning me. I try to kick him off me, but I am not prepared. Finally I manage to free an arm, and swing it towards Baz’s face. He catches it in his hand easily, flinging it back down. I pull my knees to my chin, planting my feet on his chest and pushing. He falls backwards, but is on the attack again.  
I defend myself poorly, tired and unprepared. He just keeps coming and coming until I know I’m defeated. When he finally grabs me by the neck, I’m unsurprised. I could fight back a little longer, but I know it is no use. My head and shoulder are in his hands, my limp body on his lap. His fangs streak down towards my exposed neck, and make contact with my skin.

 

Baz

My fangs are on his neck, but not piercing the skin. I just stay there, shocked still. Simon Snow. Limp and defeated in my lap. My fangs on his neck. I can hear his sharp breaths. Simon Snow. I was about to kill him. One more moment and I could have. Simon Snow.  
My trembling hands release him and he falls to my lap. He is silent and still. One might think he was dead, but I didn’t kill him, and I can feel his breathing against my legs. My vision blurs and I feel hot tears race down my cheeks in waves. My eyes are wide and frightened. Simon Snow. I couldn’t live with myself if I killed him. I nearly did. Simon Snow. He turns his face to mine.  
“I almost killed you…” comes softly from my lips. He sits up in my lap and slides his arms around me. He squeezes briefly, and strokes my shoulder gently. I turn into him and cry into his shirt. I almost killed Simon Snow. The one thing I really love. His voice is soft.  
“It’s okay, Baz. It’s okay.” Simon Snow. Almost dead by my hands. Comforting me. /Simon Snow./


End file.
